


Barcode

by shortbreads



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Biting, JinHoro, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortbreads/pseuds/shortbreads
Summary: Set vaguely between episodes 25-35.5, I suppose.Wonder if Horobi still has that Hiden barcode.
Relationships: Horobi/Jin (Kamen Rider Zero-One)
Kudos: 9





	Barcode

Jin watches Horobi idly, standing against one of the concrete walls of the base. Horobi was in front of the shelving unit, slowly looking through files and notebooks. Even though Jin knows that Horobi can sense him staring, Horobi doesn’t seem inclined to pay him any mind. 

Suddenly, a stack of documents loudly cascade to the floor from Horobi’s hands.

“Horobi?” Jin calls out frantically, rushing to Horobi’s side, not paying any mind to the papers he was stepping on.

Horobi turns his head towards him, but Jin can only maintain eye contact for a brief second before Horobi’s eyes dart away.

“They fell,” Horobi says, not looking at either Jin or the mess on the floor. 

“You dropped them,” Jin corrects, his voice full of concern. “Are you alright? Are you injured?”

“Injured?” Horobi repeats incredulously. He turns away from Jin’s narrowed gaze. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary with my condition,” he adds dismissively. 

Jin glares at Horobi’s back, feeling irritation bubble up alongside the concern he was feeling. In a swift motion, Jin grabs Horobi’s shoulder and forcefully turns him to face him. Before Horobi even has time to react, Jin gives him a pleasant smile.

“Even if you say that.” Jin applies more pressure into his grip. “I’d like to check for myself.”

Horobi furrows his eyebrows together at Jin, but doesn’t say anything. Just when Jin considers loosening his grip and letting Horobi go, Horobi’s face relaxes with a blink. With an uninterested face, Horobi tilts his head to the side. Jin stares at him blankly.

“Well?” Horobi asks, growing impatient.

“Oh,” Jin replies with a start, understanding. He releases his grip from Horobi’s shoulder and moves his hands towards Horobi’s collar.

After undoing a button on Horobi’s collar, Jin’s hands wander aimlessly around Horobi, uncertain of how to remove each article of clothing. His hands go back to his collar, before he brings them down to his waist in uncertainty. Jin keeps his head down, making an effort to avoid looking at Horobi’s face even though he could feel his eyes on him. He imagines Horobi would either be sneering at him, mildly amused at his flustered state or he would be watching him passively, blankly waiting for him to finish. He decides to ignore both possibilities and return his focus to the puzzle of fabrics in front of him.

After a bit of hyper-focused concentration, Jin had managed to strip Horobi down to his purple-gradient pants, shoes, and headband. In the pursuit of removing Horobi’s clothes, Jin had shifted Horobi from standing to sitting and had placed him on the bench. With a sigh of exhaustion, Jin sits down next to Horobi and wonders how he’s going to handle the reversal of this process when he has to dress Horobi. 

Glancing from the corner of his eye, Jin watches Horobi, looking over every inch of exposed skin within his sight. When he was stripping Horobi, he made a point not to focus on anything but his clothes in order to get through it as smoothly as possible, but now that he had taken a moment to interrupt his concentration he couldn’t help but to stare. Horobi looks smaller now that his figure isn’t shrouded in layers of fabrics. His shoulders remain straightened, but they appear vulnerable in their exposure, accompanied by a pair of arms that were thinner than loose-fitting sleeves would lead someone to believe. Jin turns his head towards Horobi, now staring at him shamelessly. 

Horobi, who until this point had remained still, shifts himself from his previous sitting position to lie down on the bench. Before Jin can question Horobi, Horobi props a leg onto Jin’s lap. Jin is taken aback for a moment, before realizing Horobi’s intention. Jin reaches for Horobi’s shoe, seemingly about to take it off, before moving Horobi’s leg off his lap. He twists his body towards Horobi and moves to lean over him, eclipsing Horobi’s upward view of the dull-colored ceiling. 

“Horobi,” Jin says, fitting a finger under Horobi’s headband and pulling it off the back of his head with ease. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Horobi, his gaze directed towards Jin yet looking past him, says nothing. Jin, knowing Horobi won’t answer him, moves to flip Horobi over in order to reveal his back to him. Horobi offers no resistance to this and he is soon lying face down on the bench, lightly propping his upper body up with his forearms. 

Jin runs his eyes over Horobi’s back and, initially seeing no abnormalities, begins to run his hand across the skin. He starts at the back of Horobi’s neck, spreading his hand against it, before lightly brushing his fingertips down Horobi’s spine. With the downward motion of the path, Jin’s fingers reach the waistband of Horobi’s pants and he pauses. After a brief moment of deliberation, Jin taps on the waistband. Immediately, Horobi’s body noticeably tenses. Slightly pleased that it seems his suspicion was correct, Jin pulls on Horobi’s waistband just enough to expose his lower back.

A familiar shape, a familiar design, and a familiar name. All put together it created an iconic barcode that designated its property as belonging to Hiden Intelligence.

A visceral feeling of rage immediately erupts from deep within him and travels upward, until Jin clenches his teeth with piercing force to prevent his emotions from boiling over and spilling out.

Horobi was shaking. Or maybe it was Jin who was shaking. Jin couldn’t really tell; the whole world could be turning over and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Jin lifts his finger tentatively and lightly ghosts his touch on the barcode, eliciting a painful-sounding choked cough out of Horobi. 

“It’s still here, after all this time?” Jin asks, his own voice sounding so distant he’s not sure if he spoke aloud or not. He can vaguely pick up on Horobi attempting to muffle noises that resemble dry-heaving.

Placing his hands on Horobi’s sides, Jin forcefully lifts Horobi by his hips, bringing the barcode close to his face. 

“What are you…?” Horobi begins to ask, before his words trail off. 

Jin presses his face into Horobi, pushing more curve into the arch of Horobi’s back. With his lips an inch from the barcode, Jin opens his mouth and with a deep breath, tears his teeth into flesh. His teeth easily break past the layer of artificial skin and immediately sink into mechanical framing, electric sparks crackling against his lips. Horobi trembles involuntarily beneath him, his chest collapsing onto the forearms he was originally using for support. Jin can hear the frenzied, motorized processing of Horobi’s body as dark blue oil spills from Horobi’s open wound into Jin’s mouth. It would be so easy for Jin to rip into the rest of this chunk of flesh, tear his teeth past the metal and scoop out any presence of the barcode before crushing the marked flesh with his molars until it was rendered unrecognizable. 

“Jin.” Horobi’s voice is quiet, but clearly straining with desperation.

With Horobi just calling his name, Jin felt as if the growing flame within him was smothered down to a weak ember. After a moment’s pause, Jin unlocks his bite and pulls his face away, suddenly cooling down with clarity. He looks at the wound he created: a ring of teeth marks surrounding the still-present barcode, soaked in oil. 

Horobi lifts an arm to reach behind him, using his hand to approximate the damage done. His fingers blindly trace over teeth marks, smearing dark blue farther along his skin in the process. 

“It’s still there?” Horobi asks, genuinely surprised. He attempts to look over his shoulder to see for himself and Jin notices Horobi’s disheveled appearance: Horobi’s hair was now mussed and falling forward, partially covering his forehead. 

Jin’s eyes catch a trail of oil that slowly trickles down from Horobi’s lower back down the arch of his spine and with a jolt, Jin releases his hold and gets up from the bench. Horobi, whose lower body was being entirely supported by Jin, falls to the bench with a loud thud. Horobi silently arranges himself into a sitting position while Jin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at Horobi.

“Horobi,” Jin starts, his voice shaking. He pauses before continuing, his voice now steady. “Do you even--?” He cuts his own words short.

“What was that?” Horobi asks, his tone casual.

Jin involuntarily lets out a short bark of laughter and brings his thumb to his lips, wiping away the remainder of oil on his mouth. With the same hand he reaches out and grabs Horobi’s face by the jaw, fingers digging into his jawline. Horobi watches him through half-lidded eyes.

“There’s so much I want to ask, but I’m not sure I want to hear how you answer,” Jin says, not being able to contain the dejection coating his words. He drags his thumb across Horobi’s lips, painting blue over the pink of his lips. Sensing Horobi’s lips twitch under his thumb, Jin releases his hold, allowing Horobi the opportunity to speak. 

Horobi opens his mouth to speak but, as if the words have been stolen and left him with nothing to say, he purses his lips together and remains silent. Jin, not knowing why he expected anything, looks around the room with Horobi’s clothes strewn about.

“If I leave right now, can you get dressed by yourself?” Jin asks tiredly, breaking the tension of the atmosphere. 

Horobi follows Jin’s line of vision. “No,” he responds flatly.

Jin sighs, but starts going around the room to pick up Horobi’s clothes.

“So you’re not going to continue your inspection?” Horobi asks, his voice clear and haughty.

Jin’s eyes widen and he spins around towards Horobi, who is sporting the faintest smirk on his face.

“So you were laughing at me!” Jin whines loudly, pouting. Horobi raises an eyebrow, amused at his reaction, and Jin realizes how childish he sounds. Feeling embarrassed, Jin attempts to recover by straightening his back and clearing his voice. “Anyway, don’t you think we should fix that?” he asks, referring to Horobi’s fresh wound.

“Oh.” Horobi’s voice is soft, no longer mocking. “No, it’s fine as it is.”

Jin, still being able to feel a coat of oil on his tongue, says nothing and picks up Horobi’s headband off the floor.

Once Jin gathers all of Horobi’s clothes, he sets them in a pile next to Horobi and lets out a defeated sigh.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Horobi says matter-of-factly.

“It’s actually frustratingly difficult,” Jin corrects him before grabbing the first article of clothing on the top of the pile. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (Takes out harmonica)  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
